I jolted upright, sweat clinging to my flesh in the cold night sky, that black twilight overhead telling me exactly what time it was.
"It's 3 in the morning."
I had to say it out loud. Sometimes you think a thought and it isn't real until you get it into the air, get it out into the universe to circulate, breathe and sob in birth. Sometimes a thought is born a dragon, flying from you and breathing fire on what you know, but most often times it's a lamb, barely able to crawl without your devout and constant help. Sitting upright moreso, I cradled my face in my hands, groaning. I couldn't believe I had forgotten. And I couldn't stay here in this lot, this hour of the strange revered by products of the weird brought with it a clarity that had been eluding me all of last night. I had a room in this area, I'd crash, then set up a camera tomorrow.
I had something to say.
Location
What are you, fuckin' gestapo?